The Thing
by ConstantlyContradictory
Summary: There was this thing, a beast of epic proportions ( it was the size of his fist) and Severus thought he had, through extreme and desperate measures, conquered long long (a year) ago ... but now, despite his best efforts, the stupid (fuzzy, cute, orange) demon thing is back to haunt him. (AKA a fluffy, Snape centered fic featuring a kneazle and light Snarry if you squint.)


The dark, ominous figure loomed over the orange fluffy _thing_ glaring bemusedly up at him.

That_ thing _was the bane of the dark man's existence, a creature he had always hated with a passion.

He finally gotten over his cowardice and threw the damned thing out, apparating over 400 kilometers away to get rid of it, yet here it was, sprawled on his doorstep; not a care in the world_._

The dark figure pursed its lips, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side and eyes narrowing. Hesitating a moment, it scooped up the slightly battered ball of fluff and the heavy black door slammed shut.

Severus watched as the hyperactive cat-like creature clawed at the couch before noticing dust dancing in a ray of sun and going off to hunt down the tiny particles.

There, it carefully stalked its prey, fuzzy bottom shaking and pink nose twitching with supposedly extreme effort. Severus looked away, just for a moment, and he couldn't find the damned hair ball. He panicked, glancing about wildly.

Suddenly a streak of orange caught his attention and the kneazle sailed through the air, smack dab in the center of a tapestry. It fell, blinking confusedly before deciding the tapestry was its arch nemesis and a far more important enemy then the swirling dust.

First, the cat cautiously batted at the hanging tapestry, but seeing as nothing happened, the littler monster tried to claw it to shreds.

Luckily, Severus's ancestors had long before cast protective charms on the ancient piece of cloth and the feline's claws harmlessly slid off the fabric.

It didn't take long for the kneazle to get bored.

A few minutes of plodding around the room later, the fuzzy ball of fury spotted a suitable enemy.

Seeing its own shadow, the little animal and took off, full speed, to confront the offending black mass. The ball of orange collided with the wall and stumbled back, utterly bewildered. It blinked a bit but then it regained its courage and let out a pitiful imitation of a roar. Charging back at the wall, the animal crashed nose first and fell side-ways, whimpering pitifully. It nursed its pink nose and limped away, glaring balefully at its shadow.

Severus snickered.

The cat whirled around, eyes wild and glaring daggers at whom ever dared to laugh at its misery. Then, it charged.

Severus's eyes widened comically and he stumbled off his chair, sprinting toward the door.

"HARRYYY"

XXX

Harry padded down the stairs an hour later, exhausted and in need of human company. Paperwork, he felt, was one of the most tedious yet tiring aspect of work ever to disgrace the planet.

"Severus?" he called, wearily.

Harry was greeted by a great and echoing silence.

The raven closed his eyes and sighed. Unless Severus was in a self-imposed exile in his potion's lab, he always, always answered. This meant no comforting massage or warm velvet voice telling him to sleep. Harry stood for a moment, internally cursing his choice in partner, then shrugged and went to make some tea.

A few hours later, there was still no sign of Severus. Harry sipped the rest of his now cold tea and plodded toward the potion's lab, still hoping for a pat on the back or cuddle or any sort of contact with his batty potion master.

Severus was not in the Potions lab.

Harry grew moderately concerned. He was an anxious person by nature, especially when it came to his loved ones.

Harry stared pensively at the muggle portrait of them both on the mantel, and was about to begin a house wide search of Severus, despite his the bone deep fatigue, when he heard a bizarrely familiar sound.

It was the sound of his kneazle, the one that had run away almost a year ago.

Harry turned slowly, a little suspicious, but mostly incredulous.

There, snoring lightly on the sofa, lay a slightly bloody, scratch covered, Severus Snape slumbering on the sofa with a fiery red-orange kneazle smugly snuggled up in his arms.

Harry smiled, summoning a camera. This was far better than anything he could have dreamed of doing tonight.

* * *

_**A/N: Well, I really like this one and I hope you did too! Thanks for reading.**_


End file.
